


Nothing is Wrong, Doc, Trust Me

by 1AbbyNewth5



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Bubbles solve all of life's problems, Dark doesn't care about doctors, Dr. Iplier is trying, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned violence, Other, Wilford needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1AbbyNewth5/pseuds/1AbbyNewth5
Summary: Dr. Iplier calls for Dark in the meeting room for a serious discussion about Wilford.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Nothing is Wrong, Doc, Trust Me

“Thank you for coming here today,” Dr. Iplier said, in his spot on the table. Dark just sat down on their spot, seeing that the rest of the seats were empty.

“ **It’s… just me,** ” Dark awkwardly said.

“I know,” Iplier replied, smiling for a second before having a serious face. “We need to talk about Wilford.”

Just at the tone of his voice, Dark knew that this had to be one of _those_ conversations.

“ **What about him,** ” Dark asked flatly. “ **He seems perfectly normal to me.** ”

This was usually Dark’s go-to sentence; something quick and dismissive, which would get rid of something quickly without much thought. Sure, Dark would say it whenever the topic of Wilford is brought up, but nobody has really caught onto it yet.

“That’s what you say _all_ the time,” the doctor said. Well, shit. “There’s no other way to put it, but Wilford is _not_ normal. In fact, he’s the most… mentally unstable person I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a _bunch_ of wackos ever since we came here.”

Dark frowned.

“ **I don’t see how you think he’s worse than anyone else,** ” they said.

“No, I don’t suppose _you_ would,” Iplier replied, scratching his chin. “I was able to meet up with him a few days ago, and… well, I think you may need to see this.”

The doctor pulled out a piece of paper from underneath the table, and slid it in front of Dark.

**Name:** Wilford Warfstache (that can’t be his real name…)

 **Birth date:** 11/9/????

 **Age:** ???

 **Hair:** Black

 **Eyes:** Hazel (with a hint of pink?)

 **Height:** 5’10

 **Weight:** ???

 **Other:** Pink handlebar mustache, no idea if it’s dyed - Forgets to wear pants most of the time - Carries a knife and gun everywhere, even when nothing bad is happening.

 **Story:** Something bad enough to make him like this, I’m sure…

 **Now:** A TV show host, even though he’s killed multiple guests… Talks to Dark… a lot. A hopeless romantic. Cheerful, friendly, but can be intimidating when he doesn’t know he is. Dismissive over time, and pops in and out of nowhere when we least expect it. Everybody suspects he has no laws of physics. He causes trouble when he says it was an accident, or he’s dismissive of it. He takes certain things too seriously, and ends up getting in trouble for it. Spontaneously shoots in random directions and excuses it for “target practice”. Can get very violent and easily offended. Mood swings, random violence, gun and knife handling, random bursts of singing… possibly more than that.

 **Likes:** Dark (literally the first thing that came to his mind), fidget toys, TV, collecting weapons, vintage clothing, helping, storytelling, dancing, colors, music, straws for drinks, creativity, distractions, Bubbles™, himself

 **Dislikes:** Interruptions, feeling alone, sitting still, too much detail, loud people, losing motivation, being lied to, smoke, thunderstorms, himself (???)

 **Diagnoses:** Anxiety, Astraphobia, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Autophobia, Mania, Memory Loss, Schizophrenia, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

 **Treatments:** Will talk to Dark about it. Medication, therapy, or both.

Dark paused for a while after reading the paper.

“ **You’re actually serious,** ” they said, staring at the doctor.

“Dead,” he crossed his arms. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what’s been going on with Wilford lately. He’s been very trigger happy this past year.”

“ **He’s** **_always_ ** **trigger happy,** ” Dark said. “ **He just needs a reminder every once in a while to stay out of trouble.** ”

“He almost shot Captain Magnum over choosing a song for Yancy’s karaoke party!” Iplier exclaimed, but trying to keep his voice down.

“ **And?** ” Dark asked. “ **Magnum is a pirate, he’s been through worse. He lost his legs for crying out loud.** ”

“He shot _multiple_ guests on his show!”

“ **He didn’t mean any of it. It was an accident every time.** ”

“He almost killed our creator!”

“ **Mark insulted him, he deserved it.** ” Dark almost sneered by saying Mark’s name, even though they knew it wasn’t the right Mark… probably.

“He ignores his problems and blows those stupid Bubbles™ everywhere!”

“ **Wilford needs a good distraction. Besides, he said those things solve all of life’s problems, why stop him?** ”

“Because-!” Iplier tried not to raise his voice. Instead, he tugged at his head mirror. “Why do you always have to defend him when there are clear issues?”

“ **Because Wilford has no idea what he’s doing,** ” Dark said, plain and simple. “ **He told me so. I see an innocence in that, so it’s justified, right?** ”

The doctor stuttered. “I- you- he- _no!_ No, it’s not!”

Dark’s eyes narrowed, and Iplier stood up from his seat.

“Dark, I know that you have the best intentions with him,” he said. “But you need to recognize that there are _so_ many things wrong with Wilford! He’s traumatized for God’s sake!”

“ **Wilford is** **_fine,_** ” Dark said through gritted teeth.

“Have you _read_ the paper?!” Iplier asked loudly. “It’s _right_ in front of you!”

Dark didn’t bother to look down at the paper in front of them. “ **I don’t care what a piece of paper says about Will.** ”

“I wrote it all myself,” Iplier said, pointing an accusing finger. “Papers don’t write themselves down.”

“ **He is innocent,** ” Dark almost growled under their breath. “ **You’re lying.** ”

“Dark, I’m a professional!” Iplier exclaimed. “I notice when somebody is acting unnatural, and Wilford is anything but natural!”

Dark tried not to clench their fists. “ **He is when he’s with me. He tells me anything and everything. Wilford is happy.** ”

“I’m not stupid, Dark,” Iplier said. “I see the way you are with him, and it’s clear that you _really_ want him to be safe. If you really care about him, why don’t you just do something about it?”

Dark breathed in. They wanted to scream. They wanted to punch a hole through the wall. Instead, they kept their voice calm and steady.

“ **I’m doing what I’m doing because I know him the most,** ” they said. “ **I’ve already done so much to make sure that Wilford is alright. He’s too far gone to even try to get professional help, even from someone like you. It’s the best I can do right now.** ”

Iplier’s shoulders slumped. He looked like he was at a loss for words, as if Dark had won this argument. The corner of Dark’s lips crept up to make a smile, but they paused as the doctor opened his mouth. Dark quickly interrupted.

“ **If you’re going to suggest we’ll go ‘Of Mice and Men’ on him, that for sure is not going to work. Wilford is far too clever to fall for something like that.** ”

Iplier froze, with his mouth agape. “I wasn’t going to suggest that _at all._ ”

“ **It wouldn’t matter anyway,** ” Dark rested their chin on their hand, looking down at the table. “ **He’ll always get back up.** ”

The doctor looked like he was at a loss for words again until he glanced to the desk at the other side of the room. Wilford’s gun resided there, right next to the TV remote. Iplier froze, having no idea if it was there the whole time he and Dark were talking.

“Wilford left his gun here,” he said.

“ **I know,** ” Dark replied with their eyes closed. “ **I’ll give it to him once I see him.** ”

Iplier turned to them. “He killed people with that thing.”

“ **I know,** ” Dark repeated, quietly. “ **To him, it doesn’t matter. He’ll forget anyway.** ”

“Then give him more reminders,” Iplier said, sitting back down in his seat.

Dark kept a glaring look at the doctor. “ **What?** ”

“Give him more reminders,” he repeated. “Make sure he does something he’s supposed to do; drink water, take vitamins, when it’s time to eat, having time away from weapons, going outside, all that…”

“ **Wilford is not a child,** ” Dark said, almost bitterly.

Iplier defensively put up a hand. “I know that, but just… give him some kind of schedule. At least _something_ to give Wilford something that affects him mentally in a healthy way. Teach him grounding, suggest he goes to therapy…”

“ **He already goes to the Host for that,** ” Dark said matter-of-factly.

“The Host isn’t a therapist,” Iplier replied. “He’s a radio host, it’s _literally_ in his name. He knows a thing or two about mental health, but he’s not a professional.”

He shook his head to quickly change the subject. “Look, the point is, just give him a new routine so he can have something to look forward to. Something that’s positive, and won’t be so dangerous. It can’t be _that_ bad for him.”

Dark exhaled slowly, as if releasing an angry ghost from their nostrils. “ **Alright… I don’t like it, but you may be right.** ”

They eyed at the gun across the room.

“Thank you very much, Dark,” Iplier said, standing up from his seat. “I know this isn’t a very fun topic for you, but I just wanted to address some concerns.”

Dark silently pursed their lips. “ **You’re welcome.** ”

The doctor nodded goodbye with a small smile, and nudged the paper closer to Dark before he turned to leave the room.

Dark sat still in their seat, staring at the TV screen. Then the gun. Then the paper.

**Diagnoses:** Anxiety, Astraphobia, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Autophobia, Mania, Memory Loss, Schizophrenia, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Dark’s mind was blank as they read the list of diagnoses over and over and over again. Mental health issues, Wilford has always had them. His brain just works differently because of them. Not better, but different. Dark was pretty sure that Wilford would be aware that his problems would be a bigger deal to other people than to himself.

Wilford would get in trouble, apologize or dismiss the problem, and go on about his day. None of it would really be a big deal, right? It was just something that happened, just another thing to be anxious about. Wilford was only human, after all, and humans make mistakes…

Still, it’s not a bad idea to have some type of safe routine, for Wilford, and for everybody. It can’t hurt to try. They’re just rules, like no shooting indoors. It’s not even a real punishment; it’s just grounding. It doesn’t have to be _so_ bad.

Dark pondered to themselves… There _was_ that one ukulele that Wilford kept begging for that one time he and Dark went on a walk around the town. Now that Dark thought about it, they could get that for Wilford the next time they go out. It’s something that Wilford wanted. It’s a positive thing to look forward to, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few weeks ago, and I wanted to make a series with this, but then I quickly lost motivation and decided to keep this as a oneshot. This is a new headcanon of mine where Dark and Dr. Iplier befriend each other by keeping Wilford in check in terms of his mental health.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this! Kudos and comments always appreciated! - Abby 💗


End file.
